


The Audition

by burkygirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Musicians, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burkygirl/pseuds/burkygirl
Summary: The choices we make and the chances we take define our future. For Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, it all begins with the audition.





	The Audition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alliswell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/gifts).



> This one shot was written in four parts, written in response to four prompts from @alliswell21 on Tumblr.

_ Prompt 1: "Just please be my best friend right now. Not the guy I just confessed my love to." _

 

Peeta’s hands slide up and down her forearms, calming, comforting. His sturdy presence behind her is reassuring, but it’s still not enough to settle Katniss’s jangling nerves as they wait in the wings for her turn at the microphone. It’s oddly intimate back here among the velvet curtains and ropes and pulleys.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips so close they brush against the shell of her dainty ear, exposed by the elaborate updo her mother had insisted upon this morning. 

She pats his hand. “I love you too.”

“You’re going to be amazing. You look amazing. You’re all warmed up. You’re going to blow them away. You’ve got this.”

Her heart starts racing again. “Peeta! You know that’s bad luck. You’re supposed to tell me to break a leg or something.”

She can’t handle it. She’s just far too keyed up. She will not get through this audition for the Panem Academy of Music, even with all of Peeta’s talent at the keyboard, if she can’t settle down. She whirls around and the look of hurt on his handsome features adds a dose of guilt to the brew that’s swirling in her stomach. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m so nervous.”

He cups her chin in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheekbone. “I believe in you, alright? I’m only trying to make sure you know that.” 

Katniss’s hand circles his wrist and she gives him a tremulous smile meant to imply she’s holding it together. “I know that, alright? And I love you for it. But I am freaking out. Just please be my best friend right now. Not the guy I just confessed my love to.”

He snickers before pulling her in for a hug. She indulges herself in a snuggle against the crisp dress shirt that smells faintly of starch and strongly of his cologne. “It’s the same thing, Katniss. Just with benefits. Now.” He lifts her away from him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and then turning her around so she can see centre stage again. “Imagine yourself out there.”

“I can’t Peeta,” she says, and she’s disappointed to hear the whine in her tone.

“You can,” he insists. “You’re going to walk right out there, straight and tall.” 

“Tall,” she scoffs. “As if.”

“Stop it,” he instructs. “You’re going to walk out there like a girl on fire in that gorgeous orange dress. You’re going to introduce yourself. You’re going to introduce me and then you’re going to sing for them like you sang for me last night.”

There’s no way she can do that. They were naked and they’d just had sex on the studio floor. She was so incredibly relaxed, she’d just let go and sang her heart out. She tells him so and he shakes his head.

“You were yourself last night. A girl filled with love for her guy and joy for her song.”

Out in the auditorium they hear a faint thank you and the other soloist, a tall, dark woman with flashing white teeth brushes past them on her way back to the dressing room.

“Katniss Everdeen,” calls one of the judges. 

She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. Her head held high, she moves across the stage like she was meant to be there. Peeta knows she was meant to be there.

He follows softly and takes his seat at the piano, nods briefly and smiles when she introduces him.

As the opening notes fill the air he watches her settle into the song; into the character of a woman so deeply in love she’s willing to die for the person who means most to her. It’s not much of a stretch for Katniss, if you ask Peeta. 

She’s got this.

* * *

_Prompt 2: "How can you still look so attractive while crying?"_

 

It’s waiting in the middle of the kitchen table when Katniss arrives home from school; a fat white envelope, left exactly where she can’t miss it.

_ Panem Academy of Music _ .

She studies it suspiciously; her grey eyes snapping, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the strap of the backpack thrown haphazardly over her shoulder.

But she can’t bring herself to pick it up. Not yet. Instead, she rushes upstairs to deposit her bag in her room, carefully sorting through the books inside, stacking the ones she wants to study later on the rickety card table that serves as her desk. Tucking her math book under her arm, she pounds back down the stairs to the kitchen and tosses the book toward the table so she can go through the assigned questions while she has her tea. The heavy tome plonks onto the surface just shy of the dreaded envelope. She frowns. She usually has better aim than that.

She fills the kettle for tea and flicks it on. The counter presses into her back while she waits, once again scowling at the envelope, considering it like prey in the woods. No matter what it decrees, it promises both opportunity and heartbreak.

When the kettle finally whistles, she sets about making herself a cup, measuring in a generous dollop of honey and laughing to herself about how disgusted Peeta would be to take a sip and find it so sweet.  Thoughts of her best-friend-turned-boyfriend almost push the threat of the envelope out of her mind, but when she turns around, the package is still there, taunting her. Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, she marches over to the table, snatches the letter from the glossy surface and tears into it. It feels like her entire life is hanging on a thread, her entire future determined by a single slip of paper. She ignores the trembling in her hand as she unfolds it. The sooner she gets this over with, the better.

_ Dear Miss Everdeen… _

Her eyes begin to burn before she’s even finished the first paragraph and in the short time it takes her to finish, the tears spill over onto her cheeks. She drops the letter and uses the heels of her hand to wipe them away. Her mind is already turning to what she’s going to say, how she’s going to explain it, when she hears Peeta’s heavy footsteps on the front porch, followed by five knocks in rapid succession. She inhales a shuddering breath through her nose and exhales slowly, wiping her damp hands on the legs of her jeans. She’s still composing herself when the front door opens.

“Hello?” Peeta’s baritone drifts through the air. “Katniss?”

She manages to wabble out an “in here” and the door snicks shut behind him. She meets him at the kitchen door where his smiling face morphs into one of concern the minute she comes into sight. He draws her into his arms until her cheek is pressed so tightly to his chest that she can feel his heart beating beneath his flannel shirt. She wants to stay there forever, being rocked gently in the arms of the best person she knows. A calm steals over her and she knows what she needs to do.

Peeta doesn’t speak a word until the sniffling ceases. “Where is it?” he asks grimly.

She waves at the table where the letter fell when she dropped it. Still holding her hand, Peeta crosses the room to pick it up.

“Dear Miss Everdeen,” he reads aloud. “The Board of Governors of the Panem Academy of Music is pleased to offer you-” He looks up in shock. “Katniss! You got in. What are you crying for?”

She waves him off and lets go of his hand to grab her mug of tea off the table. It’s cold now, so she takes it to the sink, watching it pour down the drain as she pronounces that it doesn’t matter with a finality that she’s not entirely sure she feels. “I’m not going.”

Peeta’s brows draw together and he begins to massage the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t understand. It’s the best music school in the country. This is a huge opportunity.”

She crosses her arms and counts the tiles on the kitchen floor. “I can’t. I’m needed here.”

“No, Katniss. You  _ need _ to go.”

“Prim needs me.”

“Katniss.” Peeta drops the letter and approaches her.

“Mom needs me.”

“Katniss, no. Don’t give this up.” He takes her by the elbows.

“Peeta, I have to work. Help pay the bills.”

His lips press to her downcast brow. “Alright, but it’s going to be lonely there without you.”

Her head spins. “What?”

“I got in. They sent me a letter too. That’s why I’m here. Apparently they liked my playing so much during your audition that they decided on the spot to accept me too.”

“But when I applied, you said the bakery. Your mother.”

“Full scholarship, like you. Dad said there’s no money for tuition, but since I’ve got a scholarship they won’t stand in my way.” He grinned. “Mom’s really kicking herself over insisting I take piano lessons.”

A spark of hope flutters inside her like a newly lit candle. Music school. With Peeta. “You got in too.” Her voice is nothing more than a whisper, but he gives a little nod of confirmation, the corners of his mouth twitching with his effort not to smile. “You got in too!” she crows and throws her ar

ms around his neck. Peeta lifts her off her feet and twirls her around the kitchen, every spin making them giddier than the last. They end up smashed against the fridge, dizzier than they’ve ever been and still giggling.

“Say you’ll come with me, Katniss.”

The hope inside her burns brighter than the sun and she opens all the windows of her heart to let it stream through.

“I will. We’ll do it. Together.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he sighs. “I had no idea how I was going to get out of it after getting permission to go. No way I’m going without you.”

She smacks his shoulder. “Even if I didn’t get in, I wouldn’t let you stay here.”

He cups her chin in his hand so she can’t look away and she can tell that he knows the truth.  “Same.”

She buries her face in his neck, then begins to lave her way to the spot beneath his jaw that always makes him moan. His grip on her loosens and his hands slide down to cup her rear. She can already feel him twitching to life.

“Katniss?” She grunts in distracted acknowledgement. “Just one question. How can you still look so attractive while crying?”

Her teeth find his earlobe and she bites down. “Shut up, Peeta.”

So he does.

* * *

_Prompt 3: "I'm pregnant."_

 

The thin shafts of early dawn light cast a grey light on the walls of the little bathroom where Katniss lays curled on the floor, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. The cool tiles soothe her cheeks, still flushed from the force by which she’d emptied her stomach. 

She is so tired of this. Every morning for the last two weeks she’s found herself curled around the toilet bowl. And once or twice more during the run of the day, if she’s honest with herself. 

And since she’s owning up to things while she contemplates her existence from her position at the foot of the porcelain throne, she’s just plain old tired, more tired than she’s ever been in her life. 

There’s still a chance it could be food poisoning, or a virus. She’d been certain of it in fact, but yesterday as she exited the bathroom stall, still wiping vomit from her chin, she’d been forced to face the facts by her castmate, Johanna Mason, who was lying in wait for her. Perched on the bank of sinks like a furious spiky-haired pixie, she would not be ignored.  

“How far along?” she’d demanded.

Katniss had just stared at her, stunned by the question, let alone the idea. “What? I’m not… that. It’s the flu or something.”

Johanna had simply sipped her bottle of water and waited, holding Katniss in place with the arch of one perfectly manicured brow.

“I’m not!” 

Johanna’s tongue made a derisive clicking noise. “Surely you can’t be that brainless. You’ve run out of vocal warm-ups every morning like clockwork for at least a week. I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Don’t you track your periods?”

Katniss folded her arms and stared at the floor, wishing to all that was holy that Johanna would get lost so she could rinse out her mouth. “I’m irregular. I always have been.”

Johanna snorted and jumped down. “Well, I think you better get your ass to the drugstore on your way home tonight.” She paused on her way out the door, touching Katniss’s arm softly. “You’re just getting your career started. If you decide you don’t want to go through with it, I know a good clinic. Can take you if you need.” 

In her eyes, Katniss had seen understanding, perhaps even experience. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.” Johanna blinked and her walls jumped firmly back into place once more.

“Whatever, Brainless. Just do what I said. Then make a plan.”

From her position on the floor, Katniss sees the wisdom of Johanna’s words. She and Peeta have only just arrived to New York and are auditioning furiously for every job in town. Peeta’s job in a piano bar is the only way they’re making ends meet. Katniss’s new role in chorus of an off-Broadway show being produced by Effie Trinket isn’t nearly enough to live on. 

She rolls to her back and stares up at the pink box on the edge of the sink. She doesn’t really need it. You don’t grow up as a nurse’s kid without being lectured about the signs every second day. Nausea. Fatigue. Acne. Increased appetite. Sore breasts. Now that Johanna had ripped away her blinders, the truth can no longer be denied. She’s got them all.

“Katniss, you alright?” A bleary-eyed Peeta stands in the open bathroom door. He only got home from work a couple of hours ago and his blonde locks stick up in every direction. 

“Yeah,” she mutters and resists the urge to rub her still heaving stomach. 

Peeta’s eyes fly to the pink box and his brow furrows. “I missed something, didn’t I?” His gaze returns to Katniss and she holds out her hand. He pulls her into a sitting position before crouching down beside her. “More importantly, did you miss something?”

She shrugs. “I’m pregnant.” Peeta’s eyes close and he takes a deep breath before thudding to the floor beside her, his arms around his knees as he studies his toes. “At least, I think I am. I was about to find out.”

Peeta lets go of his knees and wraps a strong arm about her shoulders. She curls against him, burying her nose in his neck and taking comfort in his steadying presence.

“What are we going to do?” It’s a rhetorical question, one she’s been asking herself for almost 24 hours. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he replies, and somehow she knows that they will.

* * *

_Prompt 4: "You're fucking hot when you're mad."_

 

The door slams and a roar of frustration echoes from the foyer. “What a horrible, sanctimonious, puritanical bitch!”

Peeta’s blonde head pops out of the kitchen to peer at her curiously. “Who?”

“Ms. Coin,” Katniss seethes, tossing her keys on the console table with a clatter. “The principal at Hope’s school.” 

She storms into the kitchen where Peeta is kneading bread dough at the counter. He folds it over and resumes his work. “I thought you were just going to talk to her teacher.”

Katniss swirls past him in a funnel of fury, a vision in an orange cashmere sweater and her hair tied up in a messy knot. He watches her flick on the kettle and when she faces him again, her expression is still murderous.

“Oh her,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Miss Cardew. Well, I talked to her.” Peeta’s eyebrows move toward his hairline. “Nicely, I swear.” Peeta shakes his head and turns his back to knead the bread again. “I know you’re rolling your eyes, Peeta.” He snorts. She knows him far too well. 

“But I was nice. And I explained that she had upset Hope by telling her that we aren’t married and caused her all kinds of unnecessary doubts and questions about us and our family. And she just stared at me, breathing through her mouth. She didn’t even apologize. She just wanted to know why we’d never told Hope.” 

Saying nothing, Peeta divides his mound of dough into four smaller hills and begins to coax them into loaves.

“So, then I went down to the principal’s office to complain. This is the 21st Century and a family is what you make it. I mean, when you think about it, we’re about as white bread as you can get in this day and age. Anyway, that horrible woman just looked at me like I had three heads and said the teacher’s actions wouldn’t have been an issue if we just had a more traditional family structure!”

Peeta turns to stare at the woman the taxman claims is his wife, even if the State of New York has no paperwork to prove it. Irritation all but spills from her pores and he finds it oddly compelling. “I don’t know why you care what these women think about us, Katniss.”

Katniss’s fingers twist into knots. “I don’t! But I care what Hope thinks and these women are in charge of her education.”

Peeta turns back to the cupboard, reaches up for a mug and passes it to Katniss. “So we’ll put her in a new school.”

She pours her tea and then blows the steam off the mug. She sighs and sips the scalding brew. “But all her friends are there.”

He runs his hands up and down her upper arms and, taking the cup, settles her into her arms. “What do you want to do?”

Katniss’s head falls forward. “I don’t know. I just don’t want her to feel stigmatized for something that has nothing to do with her. We were so young when we had her, Peeta.”

“Hey,” he whispers in her ear. “Hope has two parents who adore her and are completely devoted to each other. Sure, we were young when she was born, Katniss, but we’ve made it work.”

And they had made it work. They were more successful than they’d dared to imagine when they’d first moved into the sketchy little apartment where they’d learned of Hope’s impending arrival. But, with a little ingenuity and some unexpected help from Peeta’s mother -- who’d been surprisingly on board at the idea of a grandchild -- they’d not only survived, they’d flourished. Katniss’s labours off-Broadway finally paid off when she’d had to step in to replace a sick cast member. She’d shone brighter than a supernova that night and the world took notice. Now she was one of the most in-demand performers in the city. Peeta’s rise had been more gradual, playing in clubs and bands until he scored a gig as a session musician for an album. His mild manner, work ethic and obvious talent had impressed the studio and offers to record came pouring in.

“You know, I bet we’ve been together longer than just about any couple in that stupid school.” His fingers trail along the column of her neck. She leans into him, the tension flowing from her body. “We’re not less somehow because we don’t have a piece of paper to prove it.”

“I know,” Katniss mutters as the layer of stress lifts from her body like an itchy blanket on a hot summer’s night. His lips replace his fingers and she arches to provide him with better access. “I’m so pissed though, Peeta. I’d been thinking about us going down to city hall or eloping someplace warm and they’ve ruined it.”

His lips stall on their journey to her collar bone. “Really?” His pulse thrums in his neck as he holds himself in check, knowing if he gets too excited, she’ll clam up or feel pressured. He reminds himself to keep breathing and suckles the hollow of her collar bone. 

“Mmm,” she murmurs, and he’s not sure if she’s enjoying what he’s doing or acknowledging his question. “I was going to suggest it, maybe for Valentine’s Day, but now it’s going to feel like we were pushed into it.” 

“Never,” he mutters, his fingers slipping under her sweater, swirling over her belly and then back to slide up her spine. “You are mine and I am yours. It has always been that way, Katniss, no matter what the paperwork says.” 

His fingers flick the clasp on her bra. He cups her soft mounds in his hands and captures her lips with his own. Once, twice, three times, they cling and seek each other again. His tongue probes the seam of her lips and she grants him entry with a sigh, wrapping her slender arms about his neck. Her nipples tighten into hard nubs beneath his hand and he rolls them under his thumbs until she’s straining against the rise of his erection, which is causing him no small amount of discomfort. 

“Peeta,” she manages on a gasp as she tears away from his lips to nibble on his jaw. “What are we doing?”

A low rumble sounds in his chest. “We’ve been together a long time, Katniss. I figured you would know when I’m seducing you by now.”

“Mmm,” she agrees and then bites his ear lobe. “But why right now?”

His greedy hands push her sweater and bra out of the way so he can admire her in the glow of the kitchen lights. They fall to the tile and she stands before him with the shameless familiarity of one who loves and knows she is adored in return. Her olive skin is rosy with excitement. 

“Because you’re fucking hot when you’re mad,” Peeta mutters, flicking the button on her pants. “And I’m pretty sure you just promised to make an honest man out of me.”

“Oh you think so?” she counters, her hand drifting down to stroke his length through his jeans.  

“Uh-huh.” His fingers tug at her zipper and his hand sneaks into her pants to cup her bottom. “And I’m planning on making you come until you’re too exhausted to run away when I slip a ring on your finger.”

She tilts her head to smile at him, her silver eyes twinkling. “You have a ring?”

He chuckles. “You weren’t the only one with plans for Valentine's Day.”

He tosses her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing, giving her arse a quick slap. His shoulders shake at her yelp of protest. “Come on, wife. We have things to do.” 

She’s laughing as he carries her out of the room and into their future.

* * *

 


End file.
